


Recovery - A Geomione Tale

by SmokeysWife



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 17:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18525847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmokeysWife/pseuds/SmokeysWife
Summary: A short but sweet tale about how George and Hermione help each other recover after the war, because I love this pairing. Not epilogue compliant but no bashing either.





	Recovery - A Geomione Tale

**Author's Note:**

> The characters and world of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling. I'm just grateful she lets us play in her sandpit:)

‘George?’ Ginny asked tentatively, peeking around the bedroom door. ‘George, mum wants to know if you’d like some dinner?’

The figure on the bed made no sign of hearing her. Ginny stood watching him for a moment or two before turning and gently closing the door behind her with a click. George rolled over onto his back as he heard her leave and stared up at the ceiling, the tears streaming down his cheeks.

 

‘He’s been in his room for days,’ Molly fretted, as she came back down carrying a tray with an untouched dinner on it. Hermione looked up sympathetically from where she sat at the kitchen table.

‘He just needs time, Molly,’ she said, standing to take the tray out of her hands and put it on the counter. She magicked the uneaten food away and sent the dishes into the sink with a flick of her wand. ‘Why don’t you sit down and have a cup of tea?’

‘Thank you, dear,’ Molly said as Hermione put the kettle on, and grabbed a teapot from the shelf. She waited for the water to boil before pouring two mugs and moving over to sit next to the older woman.

‘How are you doing, Molly?’ she asked.

‘I’m okay,’ Molly said. Hermione just looked at her and she smiled shakily, her eyes welling. ‘I-I miss him. Fred. But the thought of losing George too…’

Her voice trailed off and she broke into sobs. Hermione put her arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

‘If I could just get him to eat,’ she whispered. Hermione frowned, and cast a look at the now empty tray.

‘Leave it to me,’ she said.

 

George opened his eyes at the sound of tapping at his window. He frowned as he saw the handsome owl sitting there. He rolled over and pulled the covers over his head, but the tapping continued. Eventually he rolled back over with a hiss of frustration and went to open the window.

The owl flew in and dropped a box of chocolate frogs on his bed, before sitting on the bedstead and looking at him expectantly. George considered throwing a shoe at it, but it had never been in his nature to be cruel to animals. Instead, he simply lay back on the bed and ignored it. The owl gave a soft hoot, before flying away.

George was still for several minutes before reaching a hand out and picking up the box of chocolate frogs.

 

Hermione knocked gently on the door. When there was no response she pushed the door open gently, biting down on the urge to gag as the smell hit her. Looking down, a slight smile tugged at her lips as she took in the discarded sweet papers. At least he was eating something now.

‘George,’ she said. ‘It’s been more than two weeks. Do you think you ought to come downstairs? Everybody misses you.’

There was no sound from the bed. Moving over to the window, she threw open the curtains and opened the window, taking a deep breath as the fresh air hit her. Taking out her wand, she cleared up the mess before conjuring up a bean bag in the corner. Sitting down in it, she pulled out a book and began to read.

George lay there for almost an hour, waiting for her to leave. When it became clear that she wasn’t moving he rolled over, and sat up. Sighing heavily, he pushed himself onto his feet.

‘I need to use the bathroom,’ he said. She turned back to her book, the smile tugging at her lips again as he walked past her and out of the bedroom.

 

‘Why are you doing this?’ George said as he walked into the room from the shower a couple of weeks later. Hermione looked up in surprise. It was the first time he had spoken to anyone properly since Fred’s death.

‘I thought you could use some company.’

‘Well, I don’t.’

She watched him carefully. ‘Well perhaps I could use the company.’

He looked at her blankly.

‘I imagine there is plenty of company for you downstairs. Harry, Ginny, Ron.’

She blinked.

‘It… It’s not the same,’ she said.

He frowned at her.

‘You think we’re friends, Granger?’ he said, harshly. She blinked.

‘Yes,’ she murmured.

‘Well, we’re not.’

Her cheeks flushed, and her jaw clenched, but she shrugged nonchalantly and turned back to her book.

George hissed in frustration, and stormed out of the room. Hermione lifted her head slightly as she heard him walk downstairs for the first time in a month, and brushed away the tear that was running down her cheek.

 

The kitchen fell silent as George entered. He smiled weakly and went to sit down in his usual spot. Molly looked flustered for a moment and then magicked a place setting for him from the dresser and the conversation gradually rose again to normal levels. George looked around at his family, and helped himself to potatoes, smiling for the first time in four weeks.

 

When George went back up to his room, he found it vacant for the first time in a fortnight. He sank down onto his bed, and looked at the corner where Hermione had taken to sitting. The bean bag was gone and the room felt oddly empty.

 

‘Where’s Hermione?’ he asked as he sat down to breakfast a couple of days later.

Molly looked up in surprise, and he saw his family exchange glances. 

‘Hermione doesn’t eat with us, love,’ Molly said.

George frowned. ‘Why not?’

Harry and Ron looked at each other. Ron shrugged as he said, ‘She only comes down at night.’

There was an awkward silence and Harry shifted uncomfortably.

‘Nobody has really seen her much over the past month. She’s been keeping to herself ever since the battle.’

George looked down at his plate, a feeling of unease in his stomach.

 

Hermione was sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea between her hands when George entered the kitchen. It was gone midnight, and the rest of the household was asleep.

He sat down opposite her, pouring himself a mug from the pot.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

She looked up at him, blinking slowly.

‘I was so wrapped up in my own grief, I didn’t see you were hurting to.’

She bit her lip as her cheeks flushed, and her eyes filled with tears.

‘Why do you only come down at night?’ he asked when she didn’t say anything.

She looked at him for a moment.

‘You think we’re friends, Weasley?’

Her tone was light, without the harshness he had used on her, but he still winced.

‘Yes,’ he said, swallowing hard. He thought for a moment she was going to throw his words back at him, but instead she smiled shakily.

‘I can’t sleep.’

He watched carefully, and she looked down, her hands playing with the mug in her hands.

‘When I fall asleep, I dream. About all of it. About the battle. About… About the friends we lost. About Bel-Bellatrix…’

She was sobbing now, and George looked on helplessly. She was rubbing self-consciously at a patch on her arm, and he reached out without thinking and grasped her hand in his, gently turning her arm over and lifting her sleeve. When he saw the word carved there in her flesh he blanched.

‘She did this?’

She nodded, avoiding his gaze.

‘Ron and Harry know?’

She nodded again. He frowned. Why wouldn’t Ron have told him? As she shook her head, looking away, he realised that Ron hadn’t had a chance. He’d been hiding away from everyone for the past month. It was time he caught up.

 

Ron and Harry were sat in the lounge playing wizard’s chess when George found them the next morning.

‘What happened while the three of you were away?’ he asked without preamble. Two pairs of eyes looked at him in surprise.

‘How long have you got?’ Ron asked, after a long moment.

 

‘There’s not many people who can withstand the cruciatus curse,’ George said, as he took his seat opposite Hermione that night. She looked up at him, dark circles shadowing her eyes.

‘You spoke to Ron?’ she asked.

‘I thought it was time I stopped feeling sorry for myself and started taking an interest in others again. Why didn’t you tell me?’

She shrugged. ‘It’s something I’d rather forget.’

‘Is it working?’

She grimaced. ‘Not noticeably.’

George took a sip of tea, watching her carefully. She swallowed.

‘I… I try to keep myself busy, keep my mind occupied. It’s why I stay up at night. I found that when I was lying in bed the memories would come and…’

She looked away, but not before George saw the tears building in her eyes. She brushed them away angrily and turned back to him.

‘I found it easier not to put myself in that situation.’

‘But when do you sleep? You don’t sleep during the day. You spend the day…’ he broke off, looking at her. She smiled sadly, and he felt like a complete heel.

‘I told you, I could use the company,’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘Everyone’s grieving, I know that, but somehow everyone has each other. Harry has Ginny. Molly has Arthur. Bill has Fleur…’

She paused and took a ragged breath.

‘Before Bill and Fleur’s wedding, I… obliviated my parents. I had to keep them safe. But… But now I can’t get them back. The spell is permanent. Being around your family,’ she shrugged. ‘It just reminds me of everything I’ve lost.’

He looked at her, knowing she wouldn’t want sympathy but wishing he could help her. Eventually he nodded and took another sip of his tea.

‘Well then, we’ll keep each other company,’ he said.

 

When George came up from breakfast the next morning, he saw that the beanbag was back in the corner, the bushy-haired witch sat reading in it. He smiled and conjured a second beanbag next to her and sat down, pulling out a book of his own. Hermione glanced at him and smiled.

 

George woke to the sound of his book falling on the floorboards, a soft beam of moonlight coming through the window. Turning to the beanbag next to him, he saw that it was empty. Pushing himself upwards, he grabbed his wand and wandered down to the kitchen.

‘I thought we were keeping each other company,’ he said, softly as he sat down opposite her. She looked up and smiled.

‘You feel asleep and I… couldn’t cope with the stillness once the darkness came. I needed to be up.’

He nodded and looked at her. Her eyes looked permanently bruised now, her face drawn.

‘When was the last time you slept?’ he asked. She shrugged.

‘I lost count.’

He looked thoughtful for a minute then stood up again.

‘Why don’t we go sit in the lounge for a bit?’ he said, taking her hand and leading her into the sitting room, where he pulled her down to sit next to him. Summoning a blanket he draped it over them, hesitating just a moment before he wrapped an arm around her. For a second, he thought she would object as he felt her stiffen, but then she allowed herself to be pulled down to rest her head on his cheek.

 

George woke to the sound of the dawn chorus, and the feel of the early morning light on his face. Glancing downwards he looked at the bushy-haired witch snuggled against him, a feeling of satisfaction and something that felt almost like contentment filling him as he realised she was sleeping soundly. She looked at peace for the first time since the battle, and he found his thoughts drifting as he watched her sleep.

It wasn’t until the first noises of the household waking several hours later reached them that she woke. Stretching she looked up at him, a surprised look crossing her face before she smiled sheepishly.

‘Thank you,’ she said, her cheeks flushing. He looked down at her and smiled softly.

‘You’re welcome.’

 

The next night, Hermione surprised him. When he came back upstairs from dinner he stopped to find her sitting in her pyjamas on the bean bag, reading quietly. She looked up and smiled self-consciously as he came in.

‘I… I thought, maybe we could try sleeping tonight?’ she said, awkwardly. He frowned in confusion and she blushed. ‘I thought a bed might be more comfortable. Nothing dodgy!’ she added hastily.

He raised an eyebrow, but grinned and grabbed his pyjamas.

‘I’ll be right back,’ he said.

 

The next morning, George woke to the sounds of breakfast from downstairs. He turned to find his view obstructed by a mound of bushy curls. Before he could think about what he was doing, he moved to push back the curls, smiling at the freckled face that emerged, still slumbering peacefully. He felt his chest contract, as he felt a sudden rush of affection for the witch lying next to him. He shifted uncomfortably as a rush of blood to areas that had been thoroughly neglected of late followed. Cursing silently, he quietly extricated himself from the bedclothes, and shuffled quickly to the bathroom.

When he returned, she was awake, and looking at him from sleepy eyes.

‘How are you feeling this morning?’ he asked, coming to sit next to her.

‘Better than I have done in days,’ she said smiling.

‘Do you think you could face coming down for breakfast?’

For a second, he thought he had ruined the moment as her face shuttered and she bit her lip, but then she nodded and his heart started beating again.

‘I think I’d like that,’ she said.

 

‘Hermione! Come sit down, love,’ Molly said, as the witch entered the kitchen half an hour later.

Hermione glanced back at George and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. She smiled at him, before moving to take a seat between Ginny and Ron. Ron turned and smiled at her, helping her to food as George went to take his seat, aware of a tight pain in his chest as he saw her with his little brother. He felt Ginny watching him and looked away, reaching for the orange juice.

 

‘They’re not together, you know.’

‘What?’ George asked, turning to face Ginny as she came to stand next to him where he stood in the doorway, watching Ron soundly thrash Hermione at wizard’s chess a couple of weeks later.

‘Ron and Hermione, they’re not together,’ she repeated, as though talking to the hard of hearing.

‘Why not?’ he asked.

She shrugged. ‘They decided they were better as friends.’

‘Why do you think I care?’

‘I’m not blind brother dear, and unlike the males in our family, I am also not emotionally stunted. You’ve been mooning over Hermione ever since you re-surfaced.’

He blinked at her.

‘Ron’s fine with it by the way. He’s been spending a lot of time at St Mungo’s with Lavender since the battle.’

‘Lavender?’ George asked, appalled. Ginny smirked.

‘She’s not so bad if you get past the ‘Won-Won’ crap. She’s coming to lunch on Sunday.’

‘What about Hermione?’

‘I really don’t think she cares,’ Ginny said. ‘She loves him as a friend, but well… It isn’t Ron she’s been sharing a bed with is it?’

She grinned at the shocked look on George’s face and turned on her heel, leaving him to his thoughts.

 

‘Do you think it’s weird, us still sharing a room?’ Hermione asked as she slipped under the duvet. George rolled over to look at her in her over-sized pyjamas with cats printed on them, thinking he had never seen anyone look so lovely.

‘I hadn’t thought about it,’ he said. He frowned, a tight band contracting around his chest. ‘Do you?’

‘Perhaps,’ she said, turning to look at him.

‘Do you want to stop?’

‘I don’t think I’d be able to sleep without you,’ she said, shaking her head.

The tightness in his chest dissipated and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

‘It’s just odd, you know?’ she continued, snuggling into him. ‘I never expected to share a bed with some I wasn’t, well…’

She broke off, clearly embarrassed. In the silence that followed, George swore his heart beat so loudly she should hear it. He swallowed hard and summoned his inner Gryffindor.

‘And what if we were?’ he asked, his voice muffled by her hair. She pulled back and looked at him.

‘Were what?’ she asked. He flushed.

‘What if we were, y’know…’ he tailed off, struggling to get the words out. ‘Together.’

Her eyes met his and he thought he saw a flash of emotion that made his heart skip.

‘Well that would definitely stop it being weird,’ she said, carefully.

‘And we wouldn’t want it to be weird,’ he said, pulling her towards him again.

‘No,’ she breathed, her eyes still holding his as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

‘And is that weird?’ he asked, pulling back just enough to study her face.

‘Not weird at all,’ she said, as she reached a hand behind his head, and pulled him back into another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading:)


End file.
